It may or may not come as a surprise to you that I enjoy a good cry – hint: it shouldn’t – and the other day I was thinking of all the things that cause me to instantly blub all over myself. Let’s be honest, who doesn’t love a good list?

1. Gospel Choir + Key Change
The ultimate. The gospel choir key change – so well mastered by The X Factor and similar – affects something deep within me, and even if I’m not particularly enjoying the song. See below Jaymene Douglas’ mediocre Imagine cover. It’s all a bit meh until [2:44] when the 1 2 punch of the gospel choir key change kicks in and my tear ducts are obliterated.

2. Christine Sinclair at the Olympics closing ceremony
I cannot understate how much I cried watching the London Olympics closing ceremony. I literally could not hold it together any time Christine Sinclair was on screen. Needless to say I adore Christine Sinclair but this was borderline absurd. When it first started my friends Jo-Ann and Trevor gently mocked my ease with the tears but by the end I think they seriously started to worry for my mental stability.

3. Weddings
There was a point in my life when I assumed – for some reason!? – that I would not be a wedding crier. Friends guffawed at the idea and I was ultimately proven wrong. At every wedding I’ve ever attended.

4. Actresses Playing Mothers Trying Not to Cry or Generally “Holding it Together”
Now this may seem rather specific but it happens more than you might think. The first example I can think of is Emma Thompson tidied the bedsheets as Joni Mitchell croons in the background in Love, Actually. See also the last Harry Potter movie, Muriel’s Wedding etc.

I’m worried this list could literally go on forever but I will leave you with one thing that always gets my tear ducts flowing and that is the reprise of the ladies baseball song at the end of A League Of Their Own. Interesting sidenote: Youtube completed my search “A League Of Their Own song at the end.” Amazing. Not only is this moment singularly amazing it almost makes me want to fall out with someone only so that we can have the chance at a reconciliation via musical accompaniment many years later.

Earlier this year I made a brief sojourn “across the pond” to my native land: England. Being as this was just prior to the Diamond Jubilee I found the country on the cusp of a veritable outburst of national pride with Union Jacks a-kimbo and Coronation Chicken sandwiches prepped for all and sundry. Needless to say it left me bunting mad and borderline obsessed with Millionaire’s Shortbread.

Sidenote: Why don’t we have millionaire’s shortbread? It’s just shortbread with chocolate and caramel on top! Canada has a lot of things figured out much better than the British (showers, for example, stand out in particular) but we really need to get to work on this shortbread business.

So my summer was filled with bunting madness between the Queen’s shindig my, rather more fabulous (sorry Liz), birthday celebration: Diamond Gbilee. This quickly flowed into the Olympics which were a bit like someone slapping you in the face with a Union Jack: BRILLIANT! The highlight, somewhat obviously, for myself and apparently the twitterverse was the Spice Girls throwing on some posh frocks and spicing up all our lives from atop some bedazzled hackney cabs.

Not only did they have the performance of the night, we forever have this gif of the girls getting down as Posh poses her little heart out.

In a final bit of British news, photos leaked yesterday of Prince Hot Ginge with his kit off in Vegas. (The World: “PHWOARRRR!”) Let’s be honest, the only thing that could make them any better – aside from a bit of royal side peen – would be a bit of bunting hung decoratively in the background.

I take that back, a naked PHG feeding me millionaire’s shortbread while the dulcet tones of the Spice Girls filled the air would be a pretty great moment however you break it down.

Day two of the Olympics Jo-Ann and I again had to rise extremely early because we had booked a coach to whisk us off to the glorious slopes of Whistler for the day. We had to be waiting at the corner of Seymour and Nelson by 6:45am which was rather arduous being honest, but we were there by 6:40am each with a piping hot cup of coffee (and bells on, obviously). We gathered on our arrival – from the general talk of the huddled snowboarders – that the 6:15am bus had yet to arrive so our bus was sure to be late. This caused a few of the lady snowboarders to lose their shit.

Gone is my notion of lady snowboarders as peaceful hippies, happily easing their way down a mountain to a bong-filled evening of chillaxing and heavy petting with the equally stoned boy snowboarders. AH HELL NO! These bitches were raging because their bus was a little late. One girl in particular was practically having a seizure in anger. Seriously! Calm that shit down girls. Jo-Ann and I had the rather enviable position of being – perhaps for the first time our lives – the most laid back people in a group.

To be very clear this is not a regular occurrence. As duo, I cannot imagine a pair of people less naturally at ease. AND WE CHILLED THE SHIT OUT OF THOSE BITCHES!

Anyway, we quickly arrived in Whistler – albeit after a rather unfortunate coach-sickness incident – and first things first we find a bathroom at the Fairmont. And who should Jo-Ann run into in the loo? Cindy Crawford, that’s who! Then she obviously came running out after Cindy to tell me as Cindy Crawford, Randy Gerber and the kids wandered past us through the lobby. A rather odd start to the day, especially because I think we were briefly tailed by hotel security. I’m still not entirely sure what they thought we were going to do short of yell “Oh my God it’s that woman who used to be famous and now is friends with George Clooney and looks a bit like Elisabetta Canalis!”

After this brief dalliance with the rich and famous it was off to the town centre where we discovered that Whistler is a rather lovely, if expensive, little town. I especially love that it is really geared towards pedestrians; the whole town is situated around walking areas which is lovely. Needless to say Jo-Ann and I managed to quickly find an Irish pub and quaff a few pints back over lunch. Fantastic.

After lunch we hopped a gondola up the mountain to hit the sliding centre for some luging. I feel compelled to point out here that the Sliding Centre was halfway up Whistler mountain but was not situated directly adjacent to the gondola. Rather you had to wander across the – somewhat melted and quite slushy – ski hill with turquoise be-jacketed volunteers yelling encouragement at you. Actually, there was a rather hot volunteer that neither Jo-Ann or myself really minded being yelled at by but that’s beside the point. Security was quite intense and almost identical to that at the airport except that the people operating it were friendly and not grumpy beyond all sense of human decency. It was a strange but enjoyable difference.

Despite seeming like it was just sort of dropped on the side of the mountain the Sliding Centre was actually kind of great. We quickly discovered little kiosks selling beer and subsequently discovered that you could drink ANYWHERE ON THE COURSE. No crappy beer gardens here friends. IT WAS AMAZING.

Also we found a huge amount of portoloos.

And there were these little warming tents because it was sleety and a bit cold so after exploring the luge track a little – it was all uphill and bloody hard work actually – we set up shop in a warming tent and proceeded to knock a few back. Lovely. As the time came for the event to begin we set ourselves up near the end of the track so we could watch both the big video screen and the sliders de-luging – we had discovered earlier on that watching any single point on the track was a bit of a no-hoper as you got more whiplash than anything trying to watch the luge go by. It was a really great afternoon and we ended up being in the background of the TV coverage as you may have seen on my Facebook. We were actually set up right next to one of the American sliders’ friends and family who managed to muscle their way onto the screen quite often.

Anyway, as it started to get a bit dark we headed back down the mountain as Trevor had made us rather extravagant dinner reservations at Araxi (of Hell’s Kitchen fame). The trip back across the mountain to the gondola actually managed to be funnier on the way back if that’s at all possible as it was now dark and there were more people, including families.

So Jo-Ann and I are gripping eachother for dear life as we’re sinking ankle deep into the slushy mountain. We are in fits just trying to stay vertical as hundreds of people around us are slipping and sliding when what do we see but a parent leading their poor toddler through the barely standing masses. This wouldn’t normally be that funny except said parent failed to notice that their child had in fact fallen over and was therefore just dragging said child across the wet snow. AMAZING. I literally could not stop laughing. As we loaded back into the gondola I mused to Jo-Ann that after almost a decade of planning this was the best they could come up with.

Once back on solid ground we hurried over to Araxi for a gourmet meal that did not disappoint. It really was delicious beyond all sense of necessity. I loved every bite. Jo-Ann had the Mushroom Risotto and I had the Pork Selection which included pork belly, smoked pork tenderloin, and pork cheek ravioli. AMAZING. We also split a beet salad to start and had a delicious poached pear desert. Most importantly though we were first served a celeriac foam based amuse bouche that was EPIC. We both loved it.

After our amazing dinner we realised we were running a little behind but also that we hadn’t visited Pride House so we did a run-through visit to the naked hockey player statue and grabbed a few condom and lube packets before racing to our bus (on full stomachs – rather ill-advised). Needless to say, we made our bus and spent the ride home with full on giggles after a such a long and event-filled day. It really was a properly amazing day and one which I will not soon forget.

Think back if you will to three weeks ago when the Vancouver Olympics had yet to officially open and the world was waiting with bated breath as the city laid it’s final preparations for the greatest party it had ever held. That morning you could find Arnold Schwarzenegger running an Olympic torch through Stanley Park and Jo-Ann and I rushing out of the house as not to miss the torch running up the street past my apartment.

Needless to say we were not disappointed. The flame passed us approximately 30 minutes before we were stuffing our faces at Denny’s up the road and was actually – despite my breakfast-related mocking – quite a lovely and touching experience. This flame travelled across this great land of ours, passed from person to person, touching Canadians from coast to coast. Despite it’s dodgy origins – aka Hitler – it really is a fantastic tradition.

So after our delicious breakfast – I had a Scrambler, not as you might be expecting, a SLAM or SLAMwich – I was itching to get over the zip line and we had thought, rather naively, that the queue on the first day wouldn’t be that bad. Upon arriving at Robson Square we discovered a line 5 hours long to heave our bodies across downtown.

QUICK SIDENOTE: Our first experience of the zip line had been wandering up Robson Street towards the square the night before. I had questioned at the time, “where’s the zip-line?” at which point, right no cue, we heard screaming a someone went flying right through our field of vision on the zip line. AMAZING!

Obviously, we decided to stay in the line and six hours, many panics, and a life-affirming hug later, we were safe and sound on the ground at the other side. I’ve attached a video below to demonstrate the sheer AMAZINGness of the zip line.

AMAZING!

Anyway, our feet now firmly on the ground it was obviously time to find a bar! We headed to The Speakeasy on Davie (a regular theme of the forthcoming Olympics posts) and proceeded to drink a lot while enjoying what was perhaps the most entertaining Opening Ceremonies the world has ever seen – cauldron malfunction aside.

The beginning of the show was all about the hotness of First Nation Wolf Man who was SEX ON LEGS.

After we’d stopped drooling we got down to the important business of judging the countries on their relative attractiveness and fashion sense. It all started quite well with Albania.

But then all went tits up quite quickly with Austria and Bahamas, respectively.

They were awful but worst dressed was easily Germany whose athletes had these disastrous blue and pink vests that just said TEAM across the chest. Crap. The whole parade got an A for hotness though. It was like the countries were trying to out-hot eachother. No wonder the Olympic Village ran out of condoms!

Best dressed by a mile was Azerbaijan with this killer emsemble of multi-coloured pants and rocking hat. I WANT THIS OUTFIT.

After all that the cultural portion was actually entertaining for once – another record for Canada to go along with those 14 gold medals – including the words-cannot-describe-the-level-of-amazingness-this-reached-she-hit-the-money-note performance by KD Land which was, in case it isn’t already smack-you-round-the-face-with-a-dead-cat obvious, AMAZING beyond reproach.

BITCH S’IL VOUS PLAIS! It was plenty French. Stop fucking complaining French people. There was some Quebec stuff in the cultural portion, lots of French speaking – even rather regrettably by John Furlong, – and French performers including Garou. QUEBEC IS ONLY ONE PROVINCE NOT HALF OF THE COUNTRY’S CULTURAL SIGNIFICANCE. I’m all for the protection of French culture but not at the expense of the rest of the country.

Anyway, it was a near perfect ceremony, aside from the rather obvious cauldron malfunction. Jo-Ann and I loved it and so did the crowd at our new favourite bar, The Speakeasy.

Our Olympics was off to a flying start.

Quick sidenote #2: The image at the top of this post is from the AMAZING Olympics intro used by the BBC for their Vancouver coverage and I implore you to check it out here if you haven’t already had the pleasure. DO IT.

Okay I’m trying to get caught up and posts will be forthcoming but apologies for the lack of content over the last 18 days. The Olympics were AMAZING and I’ll be attempting to relate that AMAZINGNESS in blog form over the next few days.